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To what a cumbersome unwieldiness
And burdenous corpulence my love had grown,
But that I did, to make it less,
And keep it in proportiön,
Above one sigh a day I allow'd him not,
faults had part ;
my And if sometimes by stealth he got
A she-sigh from my mistress' heart, And thought to feast on that, I let him see 'Twas neither very sound, nor meant to me.
If he wrung
from me a tear, I brined it so With scorn or shame, that him it nourish'd not ;
If he suck'd hers, I let him know
'T was not a tear which he had got ; His drink was counterfeit, as was his meat ; For eyes, which roll towards all, weep not, but sweat.
Whatever he would dictate I writ that,
And if that favour made him fat,
I said, “ If any title be
Thus I reclaim'd my buzzard 5 love, to fie
Now negligent of sports I lie,
And now, as other falconers use, I spring a mistress, swear, write, sigh, and weep; And the game kill'd, or lost, go talk or sleep.
I LONG to talk with some old lover's ghost,
I must love her that loves not me.
Sure, they which made him god meant not so much,
Love, tiil I love her who loves me.
every modern god will now extend
I should love her who loves not me.
Rebel and atheist too, why murmur I,
If she whom I love should love me.
Upon this Primrose hill
Where, if heaven would distil
Make a terrestrial galaxy,
As the small stars do in the sky —
But must or more or less than woman be.
Yet know I not, which flower
I wish ; a six, or four ; For should
true love less than woman be, She were scarce anything; and then, should she Be more than woman, she would get above
All thought of sex, and think to move
My heart to study her, and not to love.